


Change He Earth, Change He Sky

by coloursflyaway



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Prompts [10]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: 5+1 Things, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, Harry is a Tease, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both Harry and Eggsy are unlikely candidates to study at Cambridge, even if both for diffferent reasons. What seems even more unlikely, though, is for them falling in love.<br/>Or: 5 times Eggsy met Harry and the one time he asked him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change He Earth, Change He Sky

 

(1)

“Oh, fuck, sorry, professor”, Eggsy splutters out, cursing himself internally as he looks at the damage he has caused – a dark stain spreading across a white shirt, a blue tie, coffee seeping into the undoubtedly expensive fabrics. It’s just like him to pull this off in his first week at university, spilling half a cup of coffee over one of the professors; if he’s really lucky, it’ll turn out that he’s one of his, too.  
Perhaps that one everyone already warned him about, Connor Stevens, who teaches nineteenth- and twentieth century literature, only ever smiles when he gets drunk on the faculties Christmas parties.

Slowly, Eggsy looks up from the chest he just spilled his coffee over to look at the professor – because honestly, who dresses like this if they do not want to make some students feel miserable– hoping to maybe get across just how sorry he really is. How much he does not want this to have any negative effect on the academic career he never even thought he could have.   
Only that he regrets it a moment later when he is not met with the bland grey hair and sunken in cheeks he expected to find, but warm brown eyes and a confused smile.   
“It’s quite alright, really. I’m on my way home anyway”, the older man replies, and his voice, just like his face, is far, far too nice to be fair. “Although you are mistaken, I’m not a professor. On contrary, in fact. I’m a student here, even if a rather unusual one. “

“A…student?” Eggsy is rather certain he is sounding like a complete idiot, but the question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, conveying just how hard it is for him to believe what he is hearing. “Ya sure?”  
“Quite.” The confused smile drops into the slightest quirk of the other’s lips, making him look amused and impossibly handsome at the same time and Eggsy curses himself again, even if for a completely different reason this time. “I’ll take this as a compliment though. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go home and try to get all this coffee out of my suit.”

The stranger, the _fellow student_ , gives him another small, amused smile, then turns around and leaves; Eggsy does everything to stop himself from feeling like the prince, watching Cinderella leave.

 

(2)

He sees him again, the student who looks so much more like a professor, across the hall, and for a short, dumb second, Eggsy wants to go over and say hi, maybe ask after the suit he might have ruined. Just for a second though, because there aren’t even enough words he knows to describe just what a horribly dumb idea this would be, running after someone who could easily ask him to pay for the dry-cleaning of a suit that most likely cost more money that Eggsy gets from his scholarship in a _year_.

So he doesn’t, turns away just in time to miss the stranger looking over at him, a smile brightening his eyes for a moment.

 

(3)

“But how about this: We could just not go and instead get drunk of our arses in my room an’ try to hack into Elyan’s Netflix account to watch Modern Family.” Eggsy is trying, although he knows that he never had a chance, pulling the shirt Roxy chose for him over his head even while he is complaining.   
It’s a bit too tight around the chest, but he guesses it will work somehow; Roxy seems pleased, at least, and it’s her who wants to go to this thing anyway, not him, so it will have to be enough. _The thing_ is a party at the campus organised by the student representatives of the Business department, which means Roxy will have the time of her life, flitting between people, talking about taxes or company structures or whatever business students spend their time talking about.   
Eggsy, though, will sit in some corner, sipping horrible beer from a plastic cup, and wish desperately he could be in his dorm room instead.

“Nope.” It’s all Roxy says in answer and Eggsy just sighs, knowing better than to try and disagree.

 

The party is just as much of a disaster as Eggsy expected; Roxy tries to stay with him as long as she can, until Eggsy tells her to go and talk to her friends, Amelia from her human resources course and a girl called Gazzy who looks like a professional assassin but apparently studies accounting with Roxy every Thursday.   
So Eggsy ends up on a bench in some corner, the expected terrible beer in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Is this seat taken?”, someone asks while Eggsy counts down the minutes until it’s late enough to go home. His voice sounds ever so faintly familiar, but Eggsy doesn’t even look up, just nods.   
“Sure thing, mate”, he mutters and the stranger sits down, long legs in pinstriped trousers, black oxfords moving in the periphery of his vision.   
There is silence that’s just filled with the gears in Eggsy’s head turning, then his head snaps up, meets the warm brown eyes he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks.

They are hidden behind dark-framed glasses, twinkle in the shitty, dimmed light someone must have thought atmospheric, and Eggsy feels himself smile, feels himself blush. It’s quite ridiculous.   
“Oh hi”, he greets, the adds, “I mean, ya probably don’t remember me – why would ya, I just – I was that idiot who spilt coffee all over ya, like a month ago or somethin’?”  
“I do remember”, the stranger answers and Eggsy’s heart does a bit of a somersault. It's something that has been building up in him, has become worse and worse with every day, every time he spotted his Mr. Darcy at campus. “I never asked your name, though. You must think me horribly rude.”

“Oh, no, not at all”, Eggsy answers quickly, “An’ it’s Eggsy.”  
“Eggsy”, the stranger repeats, something that Eggsy is rather used to, but instead of confused and curious, the stranger’s voice sounds soft, as if he tasted the name, the syllables. “I’m Harry. Nice to meet you properly.”  
“Same.” Eggsy takes a big gulp of his beer, trying his best not to wince at the taste. “What are ya doin’ here then? Ya don’t seem to be the type for horrible beer and dumb pop music.”  
“I don’t?” The stranger – Harry, and not Fitzwilliam Darcy after all – raises an eyebrow, obviously teasing, and Eggsy’s heart flutters again. “But no, I was tricked to come here. You see, I’ve a friend who works at this university, and who told me about this nice little party the business department was having. Nothing special, just a bit of wine and some nice talks. I guess he is getting a kick out of my misery.”

“I got dragged here by a friend too. That girl over there, blue dress, blonde hair?”

Harry turns in the direction Eggsy is nodding, looking her up and down, and since it’s Roxy they are talking about, Eggsy can’t imagine his gaze to be anything but appreciative. He doesn’t like it at all.   
“Friend or girlfriend?”, Harry asks, and Eggsy suppresses a sigh. Of course. That is why going out with Roxy is such a bad idea.   
“Friend. But she’s got a bloke, sorry. Real nice one too.”  
At the words, Harry turns back, catches his gaze easily, because Eggsy didn’t look away for a second.   
“Oh, you misunderstand me”, the other says and again, Eggsy’s heart picks up its pace. “That is not what I was asking at all.”

 

(4)

The next time Eggsy sees Harry is on accident. Which is actually fucking pathetic, because Harry asked for his number that night, and they have been texting ever since, but Eggsy hasn’t had the guts to just ask the other out yet, no matter how many offers to get coffee, grab a pint, go see a movie he had typed, only to delete them again.   
But at least now, seeing Harry in his charcoal suit that clings to his sinfully long legs with every step, accentuates his slim waist and broad shoulders, he doesn’t hesitate before walking over.

“Hey, guv”, he greets, falls into step with the other man, which is hard, because has he mentioned just how long Harry’s legs are? “What are ya up to?”  
“Wallowing in the misery that is inevitably caused by being a fifty-one year old man, dumb enough to enrol at a university again.”  
“Drama queen”, Eggsy responds with a grin, but sneaks a look at Harry; he never would have thought so, but apparently fifty-one years is exactly how old he likes his men. “But what happened?”

“Oh, the usual. I have a project for programming due next Wednesday, an exam in business law on Friday, and the shop just called to tell me that the suit we are making for the Duke of York has to be taken apart and made again because someone accidentally swapped the fabrics so they went with beige and not white pinstripes. It’s a bit of a mess, really.”  
“…programming?” By now, Eggsy knows about the degree in business management Harry is getting and doesn’t like the slightest, knows about the older man being something like the Tom Ford of tailoring, but he has never heard a word about programming before.   
“Oh. Yes, I hated myself enough to sign up for two majors, programming and business, even if it really is only programming I enjoy.”

“That’s…wow.” Eggsy chuckles, looks up at Harry with a small, self-depreciating smile. “Way to make a lowly literature student feel bad.”  
“Oh, I think literature has many uses.” There is a twinkle in Harry’s eyes, mischievous and still warm, and Eggsy almost swallows his tongue when the other continues speaking, reciting a poem Eggsy knows too well..   
“…her gesture, motion and her smiles; her wit, her voice, my heart beguiles my heart, I know not why; and yet I love her till I die…”

Harry’s voice trails off for a second and he shoots Eggsy a smile that can’t be described as anything but flirtatious, half bows to say goodbye, turns left to walk into his lecture hall, leaving Eggsy fixed to his spot, unable to think.  
Softly, getting softer with every step Harry takes, he can hear, “…her free behaviour, winning looks; will make a lawyer burns his books; I touch’d her not, alas! Not I; and yet I love her till I die...”

 

(5)

“He’s flirting with me, Rox, I’m tellin’ ya.” Eggsy sets down his beer a little too forcefully, blames it on the three rounds of Sambuca they already had.   
“Mhm.”   
She doesn’t sound convinced, and that won’t do – Eggsy has only told her about Harry a few days ago, and maybe that plays into it too, Roxy wasn’t at all amused at being kept in the dark for so long.  
“He is! All the time. And I turn into this blubberin’ mess because he’s flirtin’ with me and I’m just don’t know how to cope.”

“I definitely can see that happening”, Roxy mumbles, and Eggsy is about to object, when there is a familiar voice speaking behind him, a smooth, muttered, “Good evening, Eggsy.”  
He knows who it is before he has turned, and yet he whips around, heart pumping wildly at the sight of Harry without a jacket, the first two buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just enough skin to make his fingers itch with the need to touch.   
“Oh hi, Harry”, he greets, all awkwardness forgotten when Harry smiles at him, puts a hand on his shoulder. “What are ya doin’ here?”

“Me and Merlin here”, he gestures to the man standing behind him, all cheekbones and smooth skin, wearing a jumper even Eggsy’s mum would find old-fashioned. “We wanted to grab a pint or two, nothing special. If we might join you?”  
“No, no, just go ahead. We don’t mind.”  
He kicks Roxy in the shin, just in case she thinks about saying anything; she doesn’t and Eggsy knows that he will pay for this later, just like he knows that this will be so worth it.

“Alright then. I’ll just go and fetch us some drinks, then.” Harry squeezes Eggsy’s shoulder, then, after a second of silence, leans down so his breath washes over Eggsy’s skin when he whispers in his ear. “And you’re right, I was flirting.”

 

(+1)

There is a second of stunned silence in which Eggsy just watches the other man walk away towards the bar, until Roxy gets her revenge, kicks him under the table.   
“Fucking get him”, she hisses, then puts on a charming smile, asks Harry’s friend who is still standing there awkwardly. “How about you sit down? I think you can have Eggsy’s beer in the meantime.”  
The other man moves and so does Eggsy, gets up on shaking legs and follows Harry to the bar, finding him casually leaning against the counter, waiting for his drinks.

“Go out with me”, he says before Harry has even noticed him, because he needs to get the words out before he can change his mind. He has done so far too often already.  
“Excuse me?” Harry slowly turns to face him, and Eggsy would think that the other hasn’t heard what he was saying if not for the quirk of his lips, the glint in his eye.   
“Go out with me”, Eggsy repeats, and it feels freeing somehow, finally saying out loud what he wanted to ask for such a long time now. “For coffee, or to grab a pint, I don’t care. Whatever ya want.”  
“Whatever I want?”

Harry sounds amused, but there is a hint of heat colouring his words, sending a tingle up Eggsy’s spine, just like Harry’s breath against his skin did before. It’s a promise of some sort, he’s sure of it, and he desperately wants to know just what it is Harry wants to do to him.  
“Yeah. Yes. Anything.”  
“You should be careful what you offer. Someone might take you up on it.”  
“I am.” Eggsy swallows, steps a bit closer. Harry’s eyes are on him, burning through him, and it’s addictive, having the older man’s attention so completely, makes Eggsy want to do something to deserve it. “I want you to.”

A second passes with just Harry’s eyes on him, then the other moves, gets so close that Eggsy is sure he could count Harry’s eyelashes if he could still remember how to count to ten.   
“Very well”, Harry mutters, voice deep and sounding like velvet feels, reaches up and cups Eggsy’s cheek with one, large hand, angling it so he can press their lips together in a slow, searing kiss. “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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